Al-Du’ayn… You Wasted the Milk in Summer

By: Major General (Ret.) Dr. Younis Mahmoud

The context of the proverb is that a woman in pre-Islamic times named Dakhtanous married Amr ibn Adas, an old but noble and generous man. She grew weary of her life with him and divorced him. She later remarried, but life became difficult with her new husband. She went back asking for milk from her former husband, to which he replied: “You wasted the milk in summer”—a phrase that came to symbolize someone who squandered a good thing out of greed or discontent.

When the naïve leader (Nazir) of the Rizeigat tribe, Mahmoud Mousa Madibo, stood before a gathering of his people months before the war ignited—fueled by tribal arrogance and hubris—and possibly aware of Hemedti’s intentions, he made his infamous statement threatening the entire population of Khartoum, claiming he could overrun it in five minutes if not for his own kin (Al-‘Ataawa and Al-Junaydiyya), fearing disgrace might touch them unknowingly.

It was clear he felt backed by an iron column of thousands of weaponized tatcharat vehicles and soldiers infused with hatred, dressed in animosity, and trained without mercy to pounce on Sudan—its people, its heritage, and its possessions. They were trained in killing, flaying, dragging, and taking captives without remorse. The people have seen this with their own eyes throughout the years of war, witnessing an unprecedented level of brutality from the Janjaweed.

As they swept through cities, stormed villages, and deeply humiliated the people—perhaps venting ancestral rage, deep-seated hatred, or driven by demonic possession—they left a trail of atrocities. The Rizeigat leader, his tribal chiefs, and even the Nazir of the Misseriya (who inherited none of Babu Nimr’s wisdom) all believed Hemedti’s prophecy—that he would conquer Sudan and gift them parts of it to appease them. Indeed, the first “gifts” to arrive in Al-Du’ayn were looted luxury cars, stolen gold, boutique clothes, wardrobes from people’s homes—even a fashion show was organized!

Yes, a fashion show in Al-Du’ayn—its runway was a torn-up red mosque carpet, once touched by the foreheads of the devout and whispered upon by those in prayer. It was now trampled by Um Qurun (a woman’s nickname) in stolen shoes and a crooked strut, while the naïve Nazir philosophized—perhaps even opened the show with verses from the Qur’an. Rumor has it that he also received a batch of enslaved young women to “ease” his sinful nights.

Their hopes were pinned on news from the Janjaweed heroes roaming Dar Sabah (Kordofan), their faces lighting up with each story of forced displacement, cruelty, and supposed bravery. The naïve Nazir never imagined the tide would turn—so he left no path of retreat, no lines of communication. He just anxiously rubbed his hands, waiting for the heroes to storm Merowe, burning its date palms and hurting its people out of spite for its symbolism.

But barely two years later, salvation came, and Al-Du’ayn and Nyala began receiving the fleeing, traumatized crowds—confused, disoriented, and delirious. A thousand questions poured from the mouths of villagers, hakamas (female praise singers), and Um Qurun:
“Why have you returned so quickly? Is everything alright?!”

The answer was shocking:
“Alright?!”
What good could there be when we’ve witnessed the horrors of war and the might of the remnants’ army? They are right behind us—they’ve secured all of Dar Sabah, reached Al-Khoy and are headed to Al-Nuhud. They’ve entered Dibaybat, contacted Al-Dilling, and are on the way to Al-Mujlad and Abu Zabad. They’ve seized Al-‘Atron and secured the northern borders, strengthened their hold on Al-Fasher, and are en route to Al-Geneina.

So what are you going to do now? Hence, the urgent and confidential emergency meeting was held. Despite precautions to exclude any Zarqawi (nickname for militia men), whether Zaghawa, Berti, or others—because they tend to leak secrets—the news still spread.
The news of fear became public in villages and towns alike, where talk centered around protecting Al-Du’ayn: how to defend it, mobilize, and collect donations of money and vehicles. This was the talk of tribal leaders Mohammed Al-Haj Marano, Hassan Abdul Majeed, and Ibrahim Bakhit, in the presence of the Nazir’s deputy Al-Fadil.

This is the terror, gentlemen, that God Almighty unleashed on a long path led by the movement named “Al-Sayyad” (The Hunter)—a blessed name. Blessed be Lt. Mohammed Abdullah Badawi Al-Sayyad, for whom it is named.

So this is Al-Du’ayn now? The new capital of Sudan? The seat of power? Once the source of rebellion and haven of the serpent, now trembling, scrambling to escape through tunnels or ascend ladders to the heavens—hoping to evade the wrath of The Hunter, who targets the instigators of sedition: the naïve Nazir, the corrupt chiefs, and the Janjaweed militias. And Al-Sayyad shall reach his goals by God’s power, with the valor and effort of Sudanese soldiers, joint forces, and other support units.

The attendees repeated the words of the Mujahideen Naji Abdullah and Naji Mustafa, who are among the righteous.

Now, Al-Du’ayn searches for the “summer milk” it once swam in—the security it once enjoyed. Easy living. Schools. A university and colleges. Free healthcare. Local governance. Administrative and political autonomy. Its own airport. Bustling markets. Lively nights. Horse races. A deep belonging to the beautiful, grand homeland. Back in the days of General Anas—now a captive among them—whose goodness they now repay with evil.

All of this was lost by Al-Du’ayn—or shall we say the lost ones—due to greed (the one who couldn’t gather what he wanted), and the delusion of being with Hemedti and his army.

But where is Hemedti now?
No one knows. Even he doesn’t know what struck him and dragged him from one state to another.

So, the final word to the Nazir of Rizeigat and those with him:
“Stay as you are—you’ve wasted the milk in summer.”

Swallow it… and keep it.

Al-Sayyad—The Terror of the Janjaweed.

And there is no victor but God.